


Temple

by dogandmonkeyshow



Series: Watson's Woes JWP 2017 fics [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Legwork, Sherlock the trickster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 15:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11405571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogandmonkeyshow/pseuds/dogandmonkeyshow
Summary: He'd know that stride anywhere, John told himself.





	Temple

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Watson's Woes DW comm's July Writing Prompts daily challenge, prompt #4: _To the makeup table!_

_Temple Church 2:15. Exactly. SH_

~ + ~

John glanced at his phone to check the time as he turned off Fleet Street and entered the passageway that lead into Middle Temple Yard. As he watched, the time slipped from 2:13 to 2:14. Standing in the middle of the sunny courtyard, he glanced around, expecting to see Sherlock, but there was no one there other than an elderly man leaning on his cane, watching the door of the church with an intense stare.

As John watched him, the man glanced in his direction before turning his gaze back to the church door, though John had the distinct impression the man was still very aware of John's presence and was paying attention to him without watching.

John check the time. Still 2:14.

He walked over to the church door and glanced inside. Still no Sherlock, unless he was hiding behind one of the effigies and planned to jump out at the appointed time. He checked his phone again, and as he watched, the time ticked over to 2:15. Glancing around the paved yard in front of the church, John saw the elderly man look right at him, then turn on one heel and stride away at a pace that indicated the cane was purely ornamental.

John looked around; there was still no Sherlock to be seen and for lack of anything else to do, watched the other man head towards the Embankment. Then John noticed what Sherlock had obviously sent him there to see: he recognised the elderly man's stride. Just as he walked through the far gate, John set off at a run to keep him in view.

The longer the chase, the more convinced John was that he knew the true identity of his quarry. The apparently encyclopedic knowledge of every alley, lane, blind passageway, hidden courtyard and unlocked gate in the oldest surviving area of London was too peculiar to belong to anyone else. John knew he was being tested again, and while it was annoying that Sherlock thought it appropriate to make John shadow him through London, the chase was almost fun, despite the fact there was no endgame that John could see other than a bit of exercise.

Sidling around a blind corner, John tripped and stumbled into a staircase leading down to a basement. As he pulled himself back to his feet, in front of his face was a familiar pair of shoes, leading to a familiar pair of legs, leading to a very familiar coat. John looked up to see Sherlock smirking down at him.

“You got that off fast,” John muttered as he limped up the stairs back to the street.

“What?”

“Your disguise.”

“What disguise?”

“The—what do you mean 'what disguise?'. That was you—” John groaned. “You _cock_. You sent me chasing after that guy knowing I'd think it was you in disguise.”

“What 'guy'?”

“Stop pretending you don't know what I'm talking about.” John noticed he had his Accusation Finger pointed at Sherlock, and put it away. “Why did you tell me to be at Temple Church, at _exactly_ 2:15?”

“I knew Frederick Jeffers would be there and I wanted you to follow him.” Sherlock put on his “I'm offended that you're offended” tone, which John thought was a bit much.

“You could have just asked.”

“Would you have done it?”

“Probably not.”

“See, I was right to lie to you.”

John paused and squinted up at his friend. “Which was the lie? That you wanted me to follow this 'Jeffers” person, or that 'Jeffers' wasn't actually you in disguise?”

“Does it matter?”

“Ye—“ John paused. “Oh for Christ's sake,” he muttered as he turned and limped off towards High Holborn and the hope of a cab home.

“John,” Sherlock called after him. “John.”

John ignored him and continued awkwardly on his way.

By the time he reached the main street, Sherlock had caught up to him. As they settled into the back of the cab (to Baker Street, as Sherlock had bogarted his cab as well as his afternoon), John turned an expectant “So?” look at his friend. “Well?”

John could tell Sherlock wanted to say “So what?” but he didn't. “You were right,” Sherlock eventually muttered.

“About what?”

“The lie.”

“Which one?”

Sherlock shrugged. “You choose.”

John couldn't help it: he laughed.


End file.
